


Mightier than sword

by Howling_Harpy



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Closeted Character, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Letters, M/M, Marriage, Mutual Pining, Period Typical Attitudes, Pining, Post-War, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28199535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howling_Harpy/pseuds/Howling_Harpy
Summary: A selection of correspondence between Lipton and Speirs after the war, 1946 - 1955.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/Original Female Character(s), Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	Mightier than sword

**Author's Note:**

> I am bringing a new letter fic! I worked on this longer than I anticipated as writing strictly from a character PoV and having two points of view turned out to be challenging. Writing this was super fun and I really enjoyed crafting this plot and each letter.
> 
> This is a companion work to [Heart in a box](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032072). Each fic can be read individually, but they complement each other. 
> 
> Thank you to Arwen88, Muccamukk, Fioderiloto, Anthrobrat and other awesome writers who sprinted along with me and read snippets from the first draft.

**_1946 – 1949_ **

Dear Captain Speirs,

I am writing you because you gave me your address and said that it’s something we should do. I agree wholeheartedly, but I have to confess that I’m not sure if you said that only to be kind without actually meaning it. However, I meant it so much that I am taking the risk of intruding on your life and making a fool of myself. I hope that even if you don’t reply you’ll at least know that I simply would like to continue to be your friend.

The awkward introduction out of the way, onwards to happier things! I have been able to continue my college classes and plan to graduate in two years. As someone already graduated, as a history major no less, I hope you can relate to how happy simply studying makes me. It resembles basic training actually, considering that I work tirelessly with a routine towards a set goal. Something that is perhaps singular to me, considering you’re still with the army and not hitting books or ancient burial sites, is the feeling like I’m actually making a future for myself with this. I have enjoyed the work in the family business, but I’m afraid being a servant to customers is not for me. No, I’d like to build something, plan and organize and bring people together and make something bigger than any one of us to happen. 

I wonder if that’s something that lingers from the army. I’ve been thinking of you a lot these past months and how I perhaps should have stayed on too. Civilian life feels strange, to say the least. Not bad, just odd. That would be the word. I got that feeling when I first stepped on home soil and walked into town, seeing shops stocked full, saw so many automobiles and whole streets, new buildings, and happy, healthy people. The ocean felt bigger this time around. 

I think I feel… I feel like I was left behind, sort of. I was still over there in Europe and we were pushing back the rubble, helping all those civilians in dire need, writing off coffins traveling home, and while I was still doing that, people over here bought cars, had kids and reserved holiday trips. Mother’s boarding house has been full since early spring, if you can imagine! 

It’s odd, to step out of a ship still in uniform and enter a life where everyone looks at me like I’m somehow behind the curve. “Hurry up and join the fun! Live your life!” I only just got here, dammit.

I’m telling this to you because I have a feeling you’ll understand. I didn’t want to pour this on any other buddy either as most are in the same situation and could probably do without my confusion on top of their own. Besides, it’s not like you’re just one of them, if you catch my meaning. If you want to catch my meaning.

Anyway, I’m studying engineering. There’s a lot of work in that field as well, so I should do fine! It’s going to take a year or so before Joanne and I can actually buy a house though. At the moment we’re renting just to live together. That’s another thing I didn’t expect to be that strange: To be married. It’s funny really, how the war made me feel so old and I still do, but just looking at her makes me feel too young. 

I don’t mean to complain though. Life seems to be good. I’m enjoying my new college friends and I’ve joined a baseball team again. We are not very competitive, but it’s good fun and I enjoy the exercise. 

Anyway, even though this letter is very personal and picks up where we left off as friends in service, please don’t feel obligated or pressured to reply. I’d hate to be of any inconvenience to you, my friend. If what makes you happy is to move on, then I shall make you happy. But know that I would very much like to hear from you.

With warm regards,   
your friend,  
Lieutenant Carwood Lipton

*

Dear Lipton,

What nonsense are you writing? As if I would be anything but elated and pleased to hear from you. I don’t do meaningless pleasantries (also known as lies), I mean what I say and say what I mean, and I thought you’d know that. Maybe this hesitance is less about me and more about you, so let me assure you: There’s nothing imposing or improper about friends exchanging letters now and then. What we felt over there was real, and even though you have turned in your uniform, the man underneath is still there.

I hope this is clear: I am happy to hear from you. I am currently still stationed in Germany, waiting for new orders. I have been told that a transfer is in the works for me, but as most men in Easy have been discharged, I don’t mind. The unit that was mine is no more, even Winters has been discharged and all but ran to join Nixon in some little hidey hole in New Jersey, so I am ready for new challenges and adventures that the army feels fit to order me to. 

It’s funny to read your letter. I might be an ocean away, but I do understand your confusion as I, no matter how far, feel it too and I’m not even there. People want peace, I suppose. I’m not an expert on the matters of the heart, but what I do know is that people in general want to move on from terrible times and have something good and fun for a change. That’s how I’m using my history degree, to understand odd things about the present. 

Do study. That’s good for you, and a man like you surely can make use of a degree. I’m afraid that you’re the smarter one of us in that case. I simply chased a passion of mine and dived into it wholeheartedly, but at some point realized I had no idea what to do with it once I had the degree. Can you imagine me in a library, digging up old documents, scrolls and papers and doing research? I bet not. 

But being a college graduate sent me to OCS and that’s turned out great for me, so perhaps there’s that. Do you still go to church? Even if not, you’ve certainly heard the phrase “God works in mysterious ways”. I consider that to be utter bull and am glad to be rid of that part of my lifestyle, but it is funny how things have a tendency to come together in ways that were impossible to foresee. 

I didn’t plan for you, for example. Maybe I expected and perhaps even wished for a friendship like ours, but I couldn’t have imagined you as you are. I am happy about that too, because you are more than I could have ever imagined. 

As for army life, I do think my decision is the right one. I’ll stay on for a few years at least and see what that does for me. If I grow bored, I’ll do something else, but for now that doesn’t even seem possible. I’m not sure what you want to hear about my army life. It feels like your life is so much more interesting than mine, you’re learning new things and discovering new areas of life, whereas I’m staying here with this thing both of us are familiar with. 

I can’t deny that I too have thought what if you had stayed. We had such a good thing going on, you and I, didn’t we? How we were, how we worked together, how we just fit like that? A part of me wishes we could have gone on just like that. But the stronger, more rational part of me knows that’s not possible. The war is over and it’s the whole world that keeps turning, and as we have both realized, it wants to move on. We must move on too, and even if you had stayed it’s no guarantee that we would have been stationed anywhere together.

No, dear friend and brother in arms, those days are over. We ought to kiss them goodbye. But do keep writing, write as often as you’ll like, and don’t worry about it being important or interesting. You’re always important and interesting to me, and simply getting a word from you makes me happy.

Kindly,   
your friend,   
Captain Ron Speirs

*

Dear Speirs,

The relief of getting a letter back from you overwhelmed me for a moment. I confess that I had many doubts and moods while I was waiting for your reply. Yes, I do know that a letter takes a long time both ways, but that was simply far too much time for me to start to wonder about it. I was honest when I said that if you don’t want to write, you shouldn’t, and that I’m happy to make you happy, but I’m also strong enough to admit that making you happy by letting you go would have been painful. 

Your letter made me happy. I was happy for days and I read it many times, even used it as a bookmark on one of my textbooks. Simply seeing it makes me happy during my busy days, and a boring lecture turns that much easier to bear when I see the envelope with your handwriting on it. Is that silly?

Maybe you’ll laugh, but I can imagine you doing research! Perhaps not with dusty old books, but traveling to far edges of the Earth and unveiling lost civilizations, cutting your way through a jungle or perhaps climbing a mountain. I might have read too many adventure novels as a boy, but that’s what I imagine history research entailing, and you being the only person with a history degree that I know only reenforces the image of an adventurer. Others might consider you a strange one, but to me everything you’ve revealed about yourself simply fits. You’re your own kind of a person, and I happen to think that person is great.

Do keep writing to me about the army, otherwise I’ll forget. Nothing in my civilian life reminds me of it anymore, and I don’t want to give up something I shared with you. Besides, I want to know what you’re up to! It’s bound to be very different and interesting too, so please feel free to “bore” me as well. You’re always interesting and important to me as well. 

We might have left our shared army days behind, but that doesn’t mean we have to fully let go of them, right? For me at least there were plenty of good things I’d like to remember, so let’s not kiss goodbye just yet? 

Warm regards,  
your elated friend,  
Carwood Lipton

P.S. If we’re no longer brothers in arms, should we drop the formalities and try to work towards addressing each other more casually? Unless you specifically want me to call you ‘sir’ for the rest of my days.

*

Dear Carwood,

I vote yes for dropping the formalities. I would have forgone them already if you weren’t so damn stubborn about these matters and the propriety or whatever. My reputation and authority could have taken one freshly promoted Lieutenant calling me ‘Ron’. I’m starting to suspect that you like calling me ‘sir’. 

I’m glad that my letter made you so happy. Now that we have established this level of correspondence, I have to confess that I was a little hesitant about responding. Not because I didn’t want to, oh no, I wanted to more than anything in the world, but because I wasn’t sure if that was good for you. 

Army life is my choice, and studying, working and marriage is yours. These might not fit together so well, even if you and I do. I hope Joanne is doing well and she’s giving you the respect and love that you deserve. I hope that you will find fulfilment in your duty as her husband. When you get to buy a house, make sure to give me the new address so I know where to write. 

I will keep up a friendly correspondence with you, but please make sure that it is a good choice for you. As I’ve said before, making you happy is all I want to do, but make sure you let me know what is the right way to do so.

On a more positive note: I have been given new orders. I will be handed a bunch of new recruits at Fort Benning. It seems that paratroops are something the army wishes to keep on, and I have been selected among those to carry this on. I’ve accepted the task with great pride and I’m very much looking forward to it. Ah, to put a new generation through the same hell as we, that is going to be something that I’ll enjoy. I hope to be someone who will both scare the recruits to death and hold their hand when they need it. 

Coming back to the States is also going to be a welcome change. I’m not really homesick, perhaps I’ve been on the road for too long for that, but seeing the home you’ve written to me about is going to be exciting. Wish me luck with my new orders!

Kindly,  
your loyal friend,  
Ron Speirs

*

Dear Ron,

I’m sorry I haven’t written for a while. Christmas was quite the fuss with me and my brother home for the first time in years, and mother wanted to do something special. I don’t understand how normal people have enough energy to party for a month straight. I longed for peace and quiet at times.

Welcome home! What a great start for a new year that you’re back home and leading the life you wanted. It must be nostalgic to be back at a familiar base, although it must have changed a lot. I’m sure you’ll do great at the job. I feel reassured that our young soldiers are in good, if firm, hands. Training new paratroopers is going to be a great fit for you I’m sure. I really hope the higher-ups see your great potential and recognize your talents, even if your stare turns a few weaker recruits into stone.

I have concluded that the army turned me for the better. I feel more confident now than I used to. I have always carried responsibility with acceptable results, but now that I’m studying and working part-time (good news!) I feel more mature and secure about myself. I have done so many things that otherwise would have felt impossible that I really can’t bring myself to feel shy or fearful about any of this everyday business.

It’s the other impossible things that keep me thinking. Such as our friendship. 

Please don’t think I’m flattering you or trying to get anything out of you, but after two years in civilian life I haven’t met anyone who even resembles you. I haven’t felt anything akin to what soldiers of Easy had, but then again I didn’t expect that: When some people have demonstrated that they would (and have) die for you, a bond like that isn’t contested every day at baseball practice or in a classroom. 

But then there’s you. Or us, I suppose. Us and our companionship, something I’d without hesitation declare special even among those other very special friends. I’ve been thinking about it of late and don’t know what to make of it. I wonder, could that have existed between us without those very unusual circumstances and all that horror and pain around us? Could something like that happen here, for example? Could it happen to me? 

Please don’t think that I regret it. I’m just thinking. I’m thinking about you. 

Warm regards,  
your friend,  
Carwood Lipton

P.S. I meant to say that I have these intense dreams about some things. I’ve understood it’s pretty common, even if unpleasant. Lucky that I can stand sleepless nights, isn’t it?

P.P.S. Joanne is pregnant.

*

Dear Carwood,

I’m going home to Boston for Easter and this feels like such a perfect time to write to you. Apologies for not replying sooner, but it’s been very busy at the base. Worry not though, I have been thinking about your letter (and you of course) often, and considering how your last one had many fairly deep thoughts in it, I am now confident I’m sufficiently honoring you with this reply. Still, I apologize for making you wait. 

I think of you too, very fondly too if that wasn’t obvious. I’m glad to know you think of me too, because I consider our friendship something very special and unique. Now that I can’t enjoy your company on daily basis and must make do with only writing, I might take this opportunity to talk about things that never needed mentioning before, such as that I knew of you before I met you, but only when I met you did I think of you in a special way. 

You see, I pay attention to gossip. What had caught my ear was this one enlisted man in Easy who had miraculously managed to keep the company together even when it didn’t have a single officer fit for the job. An enlisted man who was apparently everywhere at once, doing the job of a First Sergeant admirably and then casually doing the job of his superior on the side. What impressed me were the clear results, a combat fit unit that Easy remained even through the worst part of the war. Very few broke under the pressure, and someone like yourself didn’t just not break but rose up and shone. 

I had the highest respect for you as a soldier already before we had even met, and then – Well, then I met you. You hid your smile into the collar of your jacket and averted your eyes from me. I remember how luminous your dirty and exhausted face was there in candlelight, how your eyes softened when you looked at me and how kind your smile was. I didn’t expect that. I hadn’t imagined that a soldier like you would be so kind and gentle, yet so calm and fearless when you teased and thanked me.

I wonder often what you thought of me that night. I didn’t know what to do with myself. How was I supposed to? I wasn’t prepared for someone like you.

If you wonder about our companionship and what it meant, then worry not. I can’t believe my degree turns out useful in a context such as this, but I can tell you that several legendary and victorious armies of the ancient world relied on men like you and me. There are many records, even some truly beautiful odes and other poetry, of warrior brothers who held each other in the highest regard and considered themselves inseparable. Of course romance like that has almost completely vanished from the modern army culture, but in the ancient world friendship like that was considered an important part of what made a warband or a legion victorious. It wasn’t just talk of beheadings, it was dedicating yourself to another warrior so you would be giving your everything in battle not only for you own, but for his sake too.

That sort of thing is expected to come from war. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. You are a happily married man and soon a father too (congratulations!), and a short amount of time you spent devoted to a brother in arms means nothing now. Be at ease, just like I am. Last year you wrote about how the army days are behind you and the world is moving on, and you are correct. Remember that and it’ll all fade into a pleasant memory. 

Make sure to take photographs of your baby when he arrives. You know how I love babies, and seeing yours would make my entire year!

In any case, after Easter I will be heading back to Fort Benning. I don’t live at the base but have an apartment for myself in town. It’s quite nice and I sort of appreciate the privacy of a small space that’s just for me. There’s only so long one can stand communal living of the army, even if you were there warming my side and reminding me to behave in a civil manner towards junior officers and scaredy cat recruits. 

Kind regards,   
your loyal warrior brother,  
Ron Speirs

*

Dear Ron,

This morning exactly twenty-four over five Joanne delivered a healthy baby boy! He is absolutely perfect in every way, he’s big and strong and cries like nobody’s business. He has a tuft of dark hair on top of his head and bright blue eyes just like his mother’s, and he’s very active even though he’s been in this world for mere hours. I must be the happiest man on Earth right now! That little miracle is the most beautiful, precious thing I have ever seen. I got to hold him for a moment before the midwife tucked him in a cradle and I don’t think I have ever loved anything quite so much as I love that little pink bundle! 

I’ll take a photograph of him as soon as we get home and make sure to include that in this letter.

These wondrous news have lifted my sprit enough that I think I can make myself discuss things seriously with you. It’s a little concerning that simple words on paper from you make me feel so strongly, and sometimes I have to take some time before I can properly handle it. When I get a letter from you, it makes me overjoyed for days, so much so that others take notice. When I get comments on my mood, it makes me even more happy, because it feels like you’re a real part of my life, more than just letters in my drawer. It feels like other people know you as my friend, as someone who comes with me to social events or has lunch with me every day. My point here is that you mean very much to me, and I don’t want to forget you. I don’t want to get over you, whatever that means, and I don’t think I could either. I can’t be at ease, and honestly I don’t believe that you can either. 

But then again, I don’t want to complicate your life or hold you back for the sake of some scribbling every now and then. I imagine that maybe you’re following your Roman warrior traditions just like I’m carrying out my duty as a husband and now a father, and I accept that. But even if that’s so, I’ve discovered that I’m not some selfless saint who will forever just serve the cause or the needs of others. I am very capable of selfishness, always have been in fact, and even if you thought all you needed to say was ‘it’s the right thing to do’, that’s not how you’ll shake me off. Because what we have, what we were and what we are, goes beyond any sense of right and wrong. You wrote that you hadn’t planned for me, but I couldn’t have expected anything like this with anyone like you either. I had never felt anything like it, and what we have is still beyond any definition that I can come up with. 

This might be a diminished form of what we truly have, and maybe that’s the right thing to do, but at least to me we are altogether too wonderful, precious and complete that I could ever think of completely giving it up. When we are together, and we are together when we write as well, everything looks brighter and better, my heart feels full and heavy in the best of ways, you lift me up wherever you are, and I feel like I can do just about anything. I’ve thought about it, and I think that is what happiness feels like.

Who would give up happiness, my dear friend? Who would give up something that connects two people across the world this strongly? I wouldn’t, and even if you’d like to do the good and honorable thing, I don’t. You are far too dear to me. Far too dear.

With affection,  
your friend Carwood Lipton

[Attached: A slightly blurred photo of a baby in a cradle, waving his hands]

*

**_1950 – 1953_ **

Dear Carwood,

I don’t know how long I can remain in the States. There’s talk that we’ll be deployed and I know that I’m on top of the list of officers who will be sent out right away. We’ve been training more than usual, so I suspect that something is about to happen. We are certainly prepared. 

I am prepared. I have no idea if I’m better off now that I know what I’m doing than I was last time, because now I also know how little actually is up to oneself. If you hadn’t been there with me I wouldn’t tell you any of this. I let my mother and my sisters think that because I’m a veteran I have somehow better chances than those who are shipping out for the first time, but there’s no need or use to lie to you.

I’m afraid that this isn’t going to be too happy a letter, dear friend. Or perhaps it is, I certainly feel better by every minute I spend hunched over this sheet of paper and pouring my heart out to you because I know you’ll understand, and besides, I feel like you’re the only one whom I really care to reassure. That sounds bad, because of course I don’t want my mother or sisters to worry about me, let them grieve if there’s grieving to be done, but not before. It’s just that it’s in times like this that all the humdrum of life slips away and only important things remain. No excuses, lies, useless etiquette or manners remain when a man prepares to go to war, and it turns out that you are among the things that remain after the cleansing. 

I will keep writing to you as much as I’m able. If I’m right and I’ll be deployed, please don’t worry about me too much and certainly don’t let it bother your beautiful, peaceful life. And if you can’t help yourself, then please write me about your life. Tell me everything, tell me every meaningless, small detail of your day if you can’t think of anything else. Write about the weather or what you had for breakfast, what’s on the paper that day or what kind of a suit you wore that day, anything and everything you write to me will sustain me and keep my spirit up. I should probably let you know that I haven’t thrown away a single letter you’ve written me over the years and I don’t plan to start now. Once you wrote that just seeing my handwriting made you break a smile during a boring lecture. I feel the same. Sometimes I take out a letter you’ve written me, look it over and perhaps read some of it to cheer myself up. Just touching something you’ve picked out and sent to me makes me feel closer to you, and your friendship is something that I cherish.

I hope you have no doubts about how dear you are to me, Carwood. I remember all those soldiers who fought by my side and that kind of a brotherhood is until death, but still our friendship stands out. You give me strength. You give me hope. I’m sure that waiting for your next letter and thinking of what I want to tell you in return will give me a purpose and will to fight on if all else fails.

So, alala, my brother in arms! I’ll be sure to return with my shield.

With warm regards, many good wishes and hope,  
your most loving friend,   
Captain Ron Speirs 

*

Dear Ron,

So I understand you’re being deployed to Korea soon. A part of me feels like I should be going with you, but a bigger part of me realizes exactly how far those days are behind us. 

I hope it’s not that bad this time around. They keep saying it’s going to be over quickly, and in any case there are less parties involved this time. Still, I hate to think it’s yet another war. I don’t like that you’re going, but at the same time I understand that you must. 

Little Matthew is already three. Time seems to fly by so fast and he grows right in front of me. I’m teaching him to throw baseball already. He likes our Sunday walks in the park and the new playground. He has many friends already, and it feels like he dictates our friends too. It feels like Joanne doesn’t know anyone except other mothers, and as a by-product I meet their husbands. 

Joanne is pregnant again too. There’s going to be a new baby in our family soon. She hopes it’s a girl. I don’t care either way, it’s going to be our child and all I want is for them to know nothing but peace and happiness. I think being a father has softened me. I wonder if you’d recognize me as the soldier you so admired once.

I have a steady job nowadays as well! Now that it’s official I dare to tell you that I’m working at a glass manufacturing plant as a technical and maintenance adviser. I’m a part of a department that designs factory layouts and decides what sort of machinery we should invest in. My engineering degree is a great fit for this, and I hope I’ll be promoted to a leading position in a few years. I like my job, engineering is really interesting, and I’ve already been complemented on my attention to detail.

Please make sure to write me back as you’re able. Hearing from you especially when you’re even further away than usual would mean the world to me.

With warm regards and wishes of luck,  
your friend,  
Carwood Lipton

*

Dear Ron,

It's been a few months since my last letter and no reply from you. I suppose you’re busy over there. I hope my letters are reaching you alright. It would be a lot of grief for nothing if the reason you’re not writing me back is that you’re not hearing from me! 

I can’t think of anything to write, so I’ll just ramble on for a while so that this isn’t complete waste of paper.

The company opened a factory in Seattle and I moved my family there. My job pays so well that we’ve bought a house. Joanne is happy about the cabinet space and the kitchen that she tells me is stylish and modern, whatever that means. I’m glad she’s happy. I know she misses her friends from Huntington, but she did agree to the move. 

I’m home when I write this. I’m planning to make myself a workshop in the spare space in the garage so that I can build models and test new tools on my own time. I once wrote to you about dreams I keep having. Those haven’t really gone away, but doing something productive with my hands makes them scarcer and lighter, so I’ve taken up woodwork nowadays. I hope that by the time you get back, I’ll be good enough to send you something useful as a present. Something I’ve made. 

I hope to hear from you soon,  
with warm regards and a bit of concern,  
your friend Carwood Lipton

*

Dear Ron,

I really hope my letters are getting to you. I’m watching the news and reading the paper every day in hopes of catching something about your regiment, but it seems that this war is getting very little attention. It’s a bizarre thought really, how minor something like this can be. The last great wars stopped the entire world, but this one barely makes for a topic of conversation, it feels. 

Then again, I suppose the humankind has fought wars since time immemorial. I bet you could tell me all about that. I hope you’ll do that. I love it when you get passionate about something, even on paper. Even when it’s not me.

I worry about you. Having experience doesn’t give me comfort, you know? It makes this worse. I can imagine a hundred horrible places for you to be, and another hundred ways you might be in pain.

I suppose I’m a little angry too. This seems so unfair. We fought a war already, why is it that you have to go to another one? I’d like to say I’m not angry with you, but then again I’ve never lied to you. 

Please reply soon, just so I know where you are and how you’re doing. 

With warmth and longing feelings,  
your friend Carwood

*

My dear Ron,

Please reply. I want to know that you’re alright. Or if you’re not alright that you’re at least alive. I need to know that you’re still out there somewhere, I don’t have any other friend like you. 

With loving regards,   
your loyal friend Carwood

P.S. Our second son was born three minutes after midnight just today. He’s healthy and strong like his brother. I’ll send you a photo soon.

[Attached: A photograph of a man cradling a new-born baby, a small boy hanging onto his arm and staring at the baby]

*

My dear Ron,

Please be safe. Please reply. I miss you.

With loving regards,  
Carwood

*

Dearest Carwood,

I got all your letters at once an hour ago when I’m writing this. I’m sorry I scared you this much and made you worry. I’ve never wanted any harm or grief to come to you, and having failed that duty is my greatest shame.

I’m here, dearest friend. I’m here. There has been a problem with the mail and it’s completely the fault of one remarkably incompetent officer who is supposed to organize the mail rotation here, and even though my unit has moved positions a few times there’s no excuse for our mail to be delayed this much. Be sure that I will deal with the man, and I will deal with him for good.

But right now I’m not angry, I’m heartbroken. I never meant to scare you. As a soldier I should be someone you can rely on and trust to watch your back, but I have let you down. It was painful to read your letters and how worried you were about me. 

I don’t think I can hold myself back anymore. We have been apart for so long that I’m not sure I remember you clearly, but you’re always in my thoughts. I have thought of you every day here and how you must be worrying about me, and even though I think that is what keeps me from getting into proper battle fury these days, I can’t bring myself to feel sorry about it. I’ve never regretted us, and I don’t think I can say I have moved on either, not in a way I should have. 

There’s no one like you among the soldiers here, and I don’t want anyone else either. Certainly someone is doing the job that used to be yours and filling the post, but the rest is missing. You simply cannot be replaced, dear friend. I’ve tried, but it doesn’t work. 

I miss you too, more than I can possibly put in a letter. 

With regards and humble apologies,   
your true, loyal friend Ron

*

Dearest Ron,

I can’t describe how relieved I was to get a letter back! I nearly lost my footing right there on the sidewalk when I fetched the mail and finally saw your handwriting again! It’s been almost five months, longer than we have ever gone without correspondence, and I was beginning to fear the worst. I had time to think about some things I’ve been trying to avoid, and I’m not yet sure how to feel about them. I certainly won’t be putting it in this letter and just sending it off, but perhaps in some of our future ones we might be able to discuss some things.

It occurred to me that were something to happen to you, no one would probably think to notify me. Well, perhaps I’d get a phone call from Bill when he’d go through the call list of the company E, but I’m not sure how far down the grapevine I am. I’m not even sure how quickly the news would reach the veterans affairs office. 

I don’t want to be just some old associate on a call list in your life. Forgive me if I’m rude, but you don’t feel like a mere old buddy to me, and I hope that you hold me in a higher regard too. I can’t even begin to tell you what exactly you are to me, and I’m sure that after the time this letter takes to travel to you in Korea I’d use different words. But be sure that my feelings are unchanged. They have been unchanged this whole time, since we served together, since we saw each other every day, since we parted ways. It felt so good to read that you miss me too. I feel like there’s been distance between us that’s more than just miles or states or even an ocean. When I read your short yet heartfelt reply, I felt closer to you than I have in years.

I miss you so much. You don’t even know and I can’t even write you all of it. It’s not even that I miss youth or excitement or some misplaced sense of adventure like those who choose to remember the war in that way. It's just us that I miss. Our friendship has been the truest, purest and most powerful bond I have shared with anyone in my life, and even though I knew all those years ago exactly what it was, I was powerless to say anything about it. I think I still can’t, but I will try. I will try just for you. I would do anything for you.

I’m all joy right now that I hear from you again. It feels like this connection we have has cleared up again and I’m once again filled with that deep understanding that we had. You thrill me with showing it again, proving that this bond really is as true and strong as it felt back then. It feels like the only thing that will make me happy is to keep cherishing this connection, no matter what. 

We can do that, can’t we? I know I have made my choices and you have made yours, both of us have lives that are very far apart, but whenever I sit alone somewhere and think of you, I feel like none of that matters. This is perhaps a humble thing, but to me it is an immeasurable treasure that I want to keep. I don’t care what anyone else thinks about this, I want to keep this thing that is ours and ours alone. 

If you need anything from me, please ask. I’ll help you out the best I can. Please don’t be shy, you know I’m well used to bringing you warm clothes and coffee when you get a bit too excited with events, and you know that it calms me to be able to care for you. Just let me know, and please write back soon! 

Your (hopefully) best friend,  
Carwood

*

Darling Carrie,

You will never know just how happy your letter has made me. Yes. Yes to everything. Your every letter until now has been precious to me and I have been absolutely elated every time to hear from you, but to once again get this sort of affection from you is more than I have dared to dream.

And I do dream. I have dreamed of you all this time, ever since we parted ways. I have carried you inside my chest like a dagger between my ribs. As much as you might be killing me, I don’t seem to be able to pull you out. I don’t even want to. 

Perhaps it’s tasteless or wrong to describe this feeling like a stabbing, but forget the violence, that’s not what I mean. It feels like you’ve made a nest inside me. You’ve filled up my lungs and you make it harder to breath. You are terrifyingly close to my beating heart. I don’t mind it one bit, not at all: I’d rather admire the blade and live with the pain than pull it out and die. If I were to take you out, I’d surely die. 

I know you’re far away, but I can’t bring myself to mind. However you want your life, I’ll respect that. You say you’d do anything for me, and I return that to you. Whatever you need from me, consider it done. 

I’ve gone ahead and taken up some measures of discretion. Our mail is inspected and censored randomly, and I think you and I deserve some privacy. I hope you won’t mind but understand that our situation is a bit unorthodox. Still, I wouldn’t have this any other way, darling. I adore you just the way you are, always have and always will. 

With great affection,  
your faithful friend,  
Ron

*  
[Letter attached to a package]

My dear Ron,

I understand your point of discretion and I don’t mind. I’ve always considered our bond something that is for only the two of us and only the two of us can fully comprehend it. 

I hope you’re doing well over there. I hope it isn’t too hot or too wet. I hope you’re drinking enough water and have enough dry socks at your disposal. I hope you’re eating everything you’re getting your hands on. Please let me know if it’s possible for me to send more packages like this, I’ll do my best to get you anything you might need. That’s the least I can do.

Do you remember how I wrote a while ago that I’m angry at you for your deployment? I can’t say that I’m entirely over that, but please know that I also admire you. You’ve always been such a true soldier in my eyes, one of the very best ones there are, and I can understand that it is a natural fit for you. We all have our duty, I sure have mine for my family, and I feel that the right thing to do is to serve it. 

Yet, even if that’s how it is, I want to keep this what we share. Our connection is nearly sacred to me, no less so than any vow I have taken, and I don’t accept any shame over this. I think it is enough of a sacrifice to be apart from you to make up for the rest. Writing to you can’t be that selfish or bad, especially not now that you need someone to support you. I could never forgive myself if I abandoned you to war when all I really want is to be with you.

(And how I want to be with you! There’s a warm feeling and a shiver down my spine even now when I think about it. Make of that what you will, my dear heart.)

I can’t think of anything else to write now. I know you wanted me to write just about anything no matter how boring, but the truth is that what I think now is this: It’s a sunny Saturday, and I miss you. I’m wearing my casual grey slacks and a blue sweater and I miss you. Joanne has taken the boys to play with the neighbour kids at the park, I sit alone at home supposedly working, and I miss you. 

If I’m a dagger in your chest, then you are something similar to me too. But that’s what they say, shot through the heart, isn’t that right? I won’t pull the arrow out either.

Missing you dearly,  
C.

[Package attached: Four pairs of black socks]

*

Beloved Carrie,

It's been too long since I’ve written you, and I don’t even have an excuse. There’s very little action at the moment, and my deployment is coming to an end in forty-three days anyway. Still, it’s very restless and tense here, and you can never know what’s going to happen next. Sometimes we have nothing to do for weeks, and then all of a sudden we have days and days of gunfire no one could have seem coming. 

My troopers are fighting well, though. It is a proven fact that with the right mindset a man can stand just about anything and get used to it. All that maximum suffering we practiced back at Fort Benning is proving itself useful now that I’ve seen this unit bear not only combat but unbearable heat and weeks upon weeks of rain. I am proud of them. Brotherhood is found here too.

Still, there is no one like you. Once I perhaps made myself believe that there would naturally come someone else, but I was a fool in denial back then. 

All my thoughts are with you. Sometimes I see someone resembling you, someone with deep brown eyes or someone with shoulders like yours, but over and over they fall short in comparison. No one is like you and no one can fill the place you left. All that I miss, all that I yearn, is really you, you and you, and sometimes I feel a little mad with this longing. I miss the days when you took a hold of me and calmed me against yourself, made me settle by your side and rest, and breathing you in undid me.

I yearn for you during the long hours of the night. I think back to all those nights we had, the nights we stole for ourselves and spent without a wink of sleep, and also those when I got to hold you, make you feel warm in my arms and let you rest your head on my chest and sleep. There’s an ache inside my chest when I think of how I used to hold you, how real and alive your body was when you pressed it against mine. I loved you every time in every way, just as much when you embraced me, kissed me and wrapped your legs around me, as I did when you simply crawled next to me, exhausted and heavy and collapsed, falling asleep so fast I thought you had passed out. 

I will love you like this too, on paper in writing. I will write you a hundred letters, maybe a thousand if that’s what it takes. 

Soon I will return home. I think there is a little event our mutual friend is throwing for us in Philadelphia in next June. I will be attending. 

With too much affection,  
I miss you like crazy,  
Ron

*

My darling, 

I’m not going to be relieved until you have safely landed back on American soil, but I’m nevertheless feeling this weight slowly easing off me. I know I won’t be there to welcome you back like I’d want to, but as long as you are safe again, I’m content. 

A cold winter is now behind us here. We’ve had quite a lovely time actually. Matt has learned to ice skate and he’s loved it so much that he’s not happy about the spring at all. It’s endearing, even if I fear he may want to ditch baseball and start playing ice hockey. Carl follows his big brother like a shadow, and even though he's not nearly as gifted in athletics he makes up for it in stubborn will to try. 

What has kept me warm through this all are you letters. There have been many nights when the only thing that can make me warm are thoughts of you. I’m afraid I haven’t been a very dutiful spouse of late, but I can’t help it. The only thing that could possibly get a reaction out of me are thoughts of you, and sometimes I sneak off in the middle of the night to read those few short chapters you’ve written. You know which ones. It’s bizarre how nothing in the world in here can warm me, but a few lines from you positively ignite me. I wish you were here to love me.

With winter I usually dream more, but lately I’ve dreamed more of you than anything else. The coldest, darkest nightmare turns into something beautiful as long as you are there, and I remember you more and more. All the awful things fall away when you step in, everything feels warmer and brighter, and whenever I see you, a feeling of safety takes over. You’re here now, and I don’t have to worry about a thing anymore. In those dreams, I go to your side with a smile and you take me under your arm.

These dreams are beautiful, wonderful things, and even though I still startle awake from them sometimes I feel content. Whenever that happens, I can just take a deep breath, think of you and close my eyes again, and then I fall back to sleep. I only wish you were next to me so I could find you near when I come out of a dream like that, but still a mere thought of you is enough. 

These are my feelings for you, and I hope you read this letter and understand it. You make me feel so deeply understood every time I speak with you that I don’t think you could miss the weight of my feelings. I hope you remember it when I won’t be present at the event our mutual friend arranges. We can’t meet. You know why.

What does elate me is this: When you get back to America, our letters will travel faster. I will write you more than you can read so that you can never forget how much I adore you. I hope there will be many, many mornings you get the morning paper and my letter at the same time, so it will be like I was there at the breakfast table with you the first thing in the morning. I would get up just a half of an hour before you so that I could have coffee and the table set for you when you come downstairs, and on weekends I would treat you to scrambled eggs and bacon and waffles with whipped cream and blueberry jam. 

I miss you more,  
with loving regards,  
C. 

*

Dearest, sweetest Carrie, 

The war is tiring and all I really feel like writing about is you. I have been dreaming of you again. Every time I close my eyes even for a blink, I see you there as if I only saw you yesterday. How I wish I could touch your face and kiss your beautiful mouth again. I carry the memory of your smile and how it tastes like a flame in my heart, and through this all it keeps me warm.

I can’t believe I ever thought you could fade from my mind’s eye.

It excites me to know that you think of me. I can imagine you in the dark of the night, alone in the office of your home, curled up in an armchair and reading all the things I miss doing to you, and remember everything we did. Perhaps you wish we had gone further even, despite how we shouldn’t have. I wonder if I should have pushed you more. Kissed you again after you pulled away, pressed closer when you gave a tempering pat on my shoulder, or pushed my hand underneath your clothes. I wonder if you had still talked about propriety and rules if I had gotten down on my knees before you, my hands travelling up your thighs and my mouth pressing kisses to your belly and hips. I bet I could have made you sing in rapture and forget all about any rules and duties. How is it that staying decent and keeping my honor can feel so much like regret now? Where’s the reward for the downright remarkable restraint I showed before your allure and beauty? 

Still, I remain a man of honor. Thank you for being the sensible one of us. Tell me beforehand when you plan to attend one of mutual friend’s get-togethers so I know not to come at the same time. It is for the best, I recon.

How is that you keep surprising me and showing me new things? Sometimes I wonder if these letters are enough and if I’m getting enough of you through them, but you are so impossibly wonderful that yes, yes I do. I feel a bit ridiculous writing you about carnal things and sweet sins to entertain and tease you, but then you write me about breakfast tables and Sunday mornings and I absolutely melt. I’d want nothing more than to wake up in a warm bed on a Sunday without needing to hurry and reach over to look for you next to me, only to find your place empty but the smell of breakfast floating in the house. Your pillow would still be warm and have your scent in it, but I miss you even though you’re only in the other room. I’d go downstairs to meet you in our kitchen, and even though you’ve been so sweet and cooked for us and hand me a cup of coffee just like how I like it, the first thing I want to taste is you. I’d kiss you like that every morning, just because you deserve a reminder that I love you on every single day of your life, and I want to give you it all to you. I have too much of love in store anyway, so you can have plenty. 

I wouldn’t let you make me breakfast every morning though. You like to sleep in, but I often get up at dawn and go for a six mile run. When I get back, it’s still early and you’re still sleeping, and I have time to make something for you. It might be just coffee and toast and orange slices, but I’d set it up on a tray and bring it up to you. We could have our breakfast together in our bed and then stay in. I’d make love to you all morning tenderly and slowly and taste coffee from your lips.

These dreams feel so real I can almost feel them. I see them in perfect clarity. I remember how your bedhead looks like, the position you like to sleep in, how your breathing sounds when it’s even and deep, how you frown and rub your eyes the first thing when you wake up and light hits your eyes. I hope you’re more used to comforts of peacetime now and have had plenty to eat. I tremble with affection when I think of you, sleepy and soft and lazy on pillows and under covers. 

Now I’m just driving myself mad. I hope my display of love continues to keep you warm, as it positively burns me. 

With deep love and devotion,  
your forever loyal friend,  
Ron

*

**_1954_ **

My dear Ron,

I keep every one of your letters. I keep even their envelopes and every string and stamp and paper slip that came with them so that nothing can be lost. I cherish them and keep them in neat order in an old shoebox that’s hidden away. I have lined the box with wrapping paper, strengthened the bottom against moisture and secured the lid so that your letters are safe there. It’s like a cradle for this bond we share. I want you to know that this is a real, concrete action I have taken. I do more than scribble down some words every month and send a letter, I also receive your letters, I read them over and over again and keep every single one, preserve them just as they are and put them in a safe place. So please don’t doubt my feelings for you when you read further.

I think we should make our letters slightly scarcer for a while. I don’t want to push you away and I don’t want this to end, but it does need to stay in its place. Please understand, my love. It’s because as much as I have put your letters neatly into a hidden box, what we have lives within me and I can’t put my heart into a box. Once years ago you described your feelings for me feeling like a knife in your chest. Well, I think people around me have started to take a notice that I have a knife sticking out of my chest.

No one knows and it’s still a secret, don’t worry about that, but people have taken notice of some things around times when I’ve gotten a letter from you or am planning to write one back to you. I’ve been called absentminded. Many of my friends and even my mother have asked what has happened that’s made me behave so “curiously”. They see that I am strange, and they can see that it has nothing to do with my family or my work. I’m afraid Joanne can see it too, and I feel bad about hiding this from her. I know I’m just writing you and I haven’t wronged her, but I can’t shake the feeling that she knows something is not quite right.

She is a good woman, Ron. We are good friends. Best friends, I might say even (not counting you, but you’ve always been different and you know it), and we are doing this marriage thing very well, it seems. We represent often, our children are beautiful and doing well in school, and our friends, neighbours and my work associates know us as a good proper family. It’s a peaceful way to live.

But I think she has a feeling it’s not quite so perfect between us. I always thought that offering her loyalty, friendship and security would be enough. That’s certainly better than some marriages out there – her parents’ included – but as the years have gone by, I think she’s started to expect more. It’s not that she wants someone else, but I get the feeling that she secretly wishes that I were just a little bit different. 

I know it from things like how sometimes when we sit at the dinner table with just the two of us, she hints that two kids is enough for her, but she wouldn’t mind a third. She says it like there’s a problem she’s trying to take care of, and I know what she’s getting at. 

I know that a wife wants a bit more than friendship from her husband, and I feel terrible for not being able and attentive enough for her. But that’s simply it, I feel terrible and sort of broken. I can barely function like a man should, and only if I close my eyes and think of you. I have gone through it a few times for her sake, but more often than not I have had to rely on my hand. It works for her, but still I can tell she thinks of it as lesser, and she knows there’s something wrong with me. (I can’t understand why. After all, I never had you “properly” and still it was heaven, simply pure heaven, with you.)

I have to think about my family and my real life, even if it means letting go of you just a little bit. I have to pull the arrow you shot out just a little bit. I know I won’t die of it, and neither will you, even if it feels like that for a moment. I simply can’t go on with my life with you owning me this completely.

Please don’t be too sad, we’ll always have our youth and nothing can change that. That year in Europe, that summer in Austria, that day by the lake, that weekend up on the mountain. All those nights. I have all your letters too, and I will keep them forever. I will never forget you and my feelings for you won’t die, but for now I will have to simply make some room for real life.

Please understand, my dear sweetheart. 

With kind regards,  
your friend Carwood

*

Carwood,

You are not broken or faulty or failed, you’re just like me. You are one of us, and for people like us there are certain limits the performance of duty can go, and you are simply hitting that limit. If you try to force yourself past that, you are doomed to fail and there’s nothing but misery waiting for you. I know people like us, men and women, who have tried and all of them have failed. You will too.

I might even be so selfish and bold as to say that even if you’re not completely like me, you’re enough in love with me that you can’t just choose to love someone else. I confess I feel coldly victorious about that, that despite your best efforts even a woman as admirable as Joanne can’t beat me. You have given your heart to me, and by nature you are faithful to me. 

Pushing me away now won’t help you, it will only hurt. You can’t pack us away in a shoebox and wish this away. You can fold my letters into that little coffin all you like, but this is real. I am a part of your real life. 

At first I tried to be your friend, just a friend like normal people are friends, and told myself I could have a part of you to ease the pain of your absence while I get over you and mellow my feelings into memories. I had to learn years ago that it doesn’t work like that. I should have cut you out completely right from the start, that’s the only way I could have gotten over you.

I have been faithful to you. All these years and I haven’t been able to love another, yet I’ve never tried to possess you. I’ve known all this time that you’ve never been mine, you’re not for me and you won’t ever be together with me, but I have let myself take these scraps of love and accept it for what it is. I’ve occupied myself with other things. I’m a machine of a soldier, devoted to my duty and excellent at my job, and I’ve accepted that all the partnership I get is just a pen pal. 

And now you want to throw me away? You think we are something you can regulate as if this is a hobby that’s getting in the way of better, more important things? You will find that it’s not going to work like that. You can’t just decide to feel less for me. You can’t just decide that you’re going to straighten up and get on with your life and forget about me, as if I am just a convenience you can discard and forget about. 

This is so much more, you know it is, you must feel it too even if you’re in denial about it. You can’t throw me away. I love you too much, and you love me too. You love me, I am your love and your heart and your favorite, and you are my sweetheart and my darling and my dearest.

Don’t deny it. 

Ron

*

**_1955_ **

Dear Carwood

I’m sorry about my last letter. I wrote it so quickly after reading the one you sent me and mailed it almost immediately that I didn’t really think it through. I was in a rush of emotion and I have realized that it must have been very upsetting for you to read. I was crude and angry and heartbroken, and I let my pain and the fear of losing you dictate the letter. 

It was out of bounds to speak to you like that, to throw things like that in your face and demand things from you as if I’m in any position to do that. I have let my daydreams get the better of me even when I have tried very much not to do that, but it seems that they sneaked up on me. I have allowed myself to assume things and ignore my own faults. It was wrong of me to try to tell you what you can or cannot do, or to tell you what your feelings are. 

The truth is, I don’t know. All I know is what you’ve written to me, and in my selfish longing I have allowed myself to believe I am much more in your life than I have to show for or you have given me a reason to believe. 

I am sorry, and I hope you can accept my apology. I’m sorry for saying those hurtful things, I am sorry about responding so harshly when you opened up to me on such sensitive and private matters, and I am sorry about belittling your life and your family when I know nothing and am in no position to make any sort of judgements. 

I never meant to tell you that I haven’t had anyone else during these years. Most of the time I’ve thought of it sentimentally and I’m not bitter over it, and it’s been my choice which you have never demanded or pushed on me anyway. To throw that at you like it’s somehow your fault was wrong. I said it to make you feel bad about holding me back, when the truth is that you owe me nothing.

I’m sorry. I want to make this up to you, and I hope you can forgive me and still be my friend. I miss you very much and would like to correspond with you again.

With regards,  
your friend  
Ron Speirs

*

Dear Carwood,

How are you? It’s been some time since we last wrote each other, and I hope this letter finds you well. I’m currently visiting the United States before my next deployment overseas and I plan to visit my family and a few friends. I’ve heard from our mutual friends from Easy that you have apparently been promoted in charge of your department and are currently living with your family in Washington. Congratulations on your promotion! I am happy for you. I will be visiting D.C. this June from the second to the seventeenth. 

I hope Joanne and the boys are doing well. I hope they are appreciating the opportunity to travel along with your work and enjoy seeing different places. Your boys are bright and hearty, I’m sure they’ll have many friends wherever they go. They grow up so fast, don’t they?

I still don’t have a spouse or kids of my own, but I’m happy so tell you that I’ve become something of a trusted one for a few friends I have. Over the years I’ve become close friends with a few women who are leading careers in the army as well. One friend of mine used to work closely with me as a supply officer, and she has two daughters and a son from her past marriage. Currently she and our regiment command’s head secretary, another friend of mine, are cohabiting and looking after the children, and I have been privileged with the task to help them sometimes so that the ladies can have some free time. I’m enjoying the family life as a sort of a godfather. 

I haven’t written to you much about my work in the army. If you keep yourself up to date with Easy’s roster, you might be aware that I have been a major for some time. I might be looking into a promotion to lieutenant-colonel in a few years if I do my job well. I’ve had quite the repertoire of experiences with the army. I have been on active duty, I have fought in three wars in multiple countries, and then I have trained multiple units on home soil. It has been an exciting thirteen years. I can’t say I regret much about it, even if winter seasons have been probably forever ruined for me. It’s a pity, I would have liked to try skiing sometime.

After my leave in the States I will be heading back to Europe. I can’t yet tell you on what sort of an assignment though, but I’m fairly sure it’ll be my last stretch of active duty overseas. When I move back to the States and settle down, I think I’m going to get a dog. I could use some company at home. 

I wish you would reply. I’ve been thinking of you a lot and wondering. 

With regards,  
your old friend,  
Ron Speirs

*

Dear Carwood,

I hope I don’t sound completely pathetic, but I’d like us to be friendly again. I miss our conversations and I miss seeing your handwriting on an envelope when I get the mail. I miss simply the way you addressed me and how you wrote my name on paper, and I miss holding a sheet of paper knowing that your hand has rested on it. 

This silence is probably the worst I’ve ever experienced. I promise I’m not angry with you, I won’t demand anything from you, and I won’t hang onto you or assume your intentions if you write me. I would truly want to hear from you again, just so I won’t have to continue being in the dark and ignorant. 

Even if that’s no good anymore, I’d still like you to write me and tell me properly. If this is the end and it’s truly over now, would you be so kind and write it to me so I can know for sure? I’m not asking much, just a few lines and your signature. Please, make it a clean break, like amputating a gangrene limb. Cut me off for good. That’s the only way I can heal. 

Please, for old time’s sake.

With regards,  
your old friend,  
Ron Speirs

*

Dear Ron,

I am well, thank you for asking. I hope you are doing alright as well, even though I think I’m detecting something not really alright in the tone of your last letter. 

I think I owe you an apology at this point as well. I confess, I was really upset about the letter I got after the last one I sent. You’ve never been so angry at me, and just the letter was enough to upset me for days. It wasn’t at all what I was expecting from you. I felt judged and betrayed by you, whom I’ve always relied on in the most personal and delicate things. I expected something kind and soothing that would make it all better, that you’d solemnly go along and somehow spin it all around so that it wouldn’t be so painful, but something beautiful and tender that would once again set us apart as something special. 

Instead, you were upset and angry, and so was I after reading it. I couldn’t read it again for months, not with everything else going on with my life. I couldn’t open any of the new letters you sent either. I feared more of the same, I suppose. 

But a lot has happened since that last letter of mine, and since everything is changing and nothing is quite the same, I went back to your letter. I read it again, calmer this time, and then read it again. 

I saw that you were in pain too, and I understand now why. I was an inconsiderate fool to write it. It was cruel to ask you, who I fully know loves me with passion and devotion I can barely return in mere letters, to step back to make my life easier. I didn’t for a moment stop to consider how you might feel about my request, just assumed that of course you would go along with it and comfort me like you always do. 

I’m sorry I have been so oblivious to your sacrifices and struggles through the years. I’ve been selfish in trying to have it both ways, to make my mother proud and do my duty as a husband like is expected, but still keep hanging on to you. It’s me who’s held you back all these years and you have just silently bore it, and still you try to assure me that you’re not sorry about it because I have been a coward and left you hang in uncertainty.

Perhaps it’s fitting then that it’s all come to an end now. I have accepted a transfer overseas and will start as the new factory supervisor in Berlin, Germany in six weeks. I will be moving there in four weeks, on November twentieth to be exact. Joanne and the boys are moving too, but that’s got nothing to do with me. She’s got a job waiting for her in Huntington. 

Both you and Joanne have been too good for me all this time, and it turns out that I haven’t made anyone happy at all. I’m sorry for more than I can say. 

With respect,  
Carwood Lipton

P.S. You never had to try to possess me. I have been yours since that night in Haguenau. 

*

My darling Carwood,

I know now how you felt when I finally reached back to you from Korea. I’m sorry for your hardship, it sounds like you are going through a lot at once. I won’t hold any of it against you, you are having a hard time and I understand that you needed space. Still, I accept your apology and forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I will always forgive you. 

It seems that we’ll miss each other here in the States and won’t be able to meet. I have been summoned for training and briefing in North Carolina and will leave shorty. But then again, my next mission and post is as the American liaison in Spandau Prison in Germany. I’ll tell you, now that I have forgiven you, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to deliver your little P.S. to me in person.

With love,  
yours,  
Ron Speirs

*

My dearest Ron,

It seems I have lied for too long. As hard as I try when it really matters, words fail me. Even now that I want you back so badly, I can’t think of anything to say.

Still, I once said I’d do anything for you. All I have is the simple truth anyway, and for you, I’ll try. 

I love you. You are not just my favorite, but my only one. I promise I won’t deny it ever again. 

See you soon,  
faithfully yours,  
Carwood Lipton

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked this, leave kudos. If you want to make my day, leave a comment! 
> 
> You can also find me on [Tumblr.](howling-harpy.tumblr.com/)


End file.
